


goodnight moon

by reptilianraven



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Dragons, M/M, Magical Realism, Pining, this fic is by me so of course theres pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 19:11:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reptilianraven/pseuds/reptilianraven
Summary: It’s just one of those facts Jeremy found infinitely cool at first until it slowly melted into the rest of what made Michael who he is. Michael likes video games, Michael can whistle really well, Michael is handsome, and Michael has dragon blood in him.(“How are you feeling?”“Miserable,” Michael grumbles. “Miserable and moody and cold and hot and exhausted and I wanna go swimming and my back keeps alternating between weird tingling and bad aches. Why’s it doing that, Jer? It’s really weird, why is it doing that?”“Uh, well, I don’t really know anything about all this,” Jeremy sits by Michael’s side. “But maybe it’s the whole wings thing?”)-Wherein Michael is a dragon going through the pains of manifesting and Jeremy puts his pining aside to take care of his best friend. Jeremy had no idea dragons got this clingy.





	goodnight moon

**Author's Note:**

> yeah you, uh, read the summary right. inspired by [sinisterspook’s dragon!michael art](http://sinisterspooks.tumblr.com/post/162229739013/oo-michael-with-d4) which saved my life. this was supposed to be short, but then it snowballed and then worldbuilding happened and then feelings and...yknow.
> 
> things b4 u read!!!:  
> 1) dragon mythos based on the filipino mythologies on the Bakunawa  
> 2) this fic also has some tagalog lines here and there. all translations are in the endnotes, for those who cant understand it.  
> 3) set in a no squip au where being supernatural is normal and also everybody is friends because i say so  
> 4) _IMPORTANT_ : there is a lot of pining in this piece and it goes mostly unresolved but ends at a Hopeful Note. just Wanted To Get That Clear so that none of u like, Kill Me
> 
> anyway this fic is weird!!! i hope you enjoy it!!!

Jeremy isn’t bitter, per se, that he’s about as human as human gets. Really, he isn’t. Maybe he feels a little out of place, sometimes, but it’s all cool. Jeremy’s pretty sure he’d be awful at handling the added stresses of being a supernatural, so human is good. Human is great. His friends always take the time to remind him of this, while also reminding him of the various cons concerning supernatural life.

Rich used to complain a lot about how his lisp was caused by his monthly shifts as a child, back when he didn’t have as much control. When the full moon came, his canines would grow and throw the rest of his teeth way out of whack. He couldn’t get braces because werewolf orthodontia was, as he said it, “a fuckin’ dental nightmare.” Now, of course, he owns it pretty well, all insecurity over his lisp gone as he grew into the confident and weird werewolf he is now. 

Christine has magic flowing in her blood. She can do cool stuff like make bug repellent sigils or light candles by pinching the wick. For Jeremy’s last birthday, she crocheted him fingerless gloves with charmed yarn, and so they feel warmer than they rightfully should. But Christine’s magic is also tied to her emotions. She once got rad gigantic feelings over something and accidentally blew out the power of the entire school, earning her a week’s detention.

Jenna can talk to ghosts, or more accurately, ghosts talk to Jenna. They're apparently always talking to the living, but only a few here and there can actually hear them. Jeremy can’t imagine how it must be like, but Jenna assures him it isn’t terrifying or any of that crap horror movies show. 

(“It’s mostly annoying,” she’d say. “Imagine people talking to you non-stop and you can’t even punch them because they’re incorporeal.”

“Huh,” Jeremy would reply, remembering times when Jenna would roll her eyes seemingly at nothing or sigh exaggeratedly at empty corners of the room.)

Jake, Brooke, and Chloe are human as he is with no magic whatsoever even if Jake keeps trying to convince them all that sleight of hand card tricks totally counts as a supernatural ability. Of course, Jeremy can’t even begin comparing himself to those three because they’re inhumanly beautiful and good at things. Jeremy is human, and human is good, human is great.

But god, is it easy to feel just a little bit boring.

“Would a boring person yell ‘parkour!’ right before jumping over a railing?” Michael elbows him that day during lunch while Jeremy idly doodles on his chemistry homework. “Absolutely not..”

“I sprained my ankle doing that,” Jeremy grumbles.

“Yeah, but my point is you aren’t boring, dude,” Michael says. “And anybody who says so can fight me.”

“Thanks,” Jeremy smiles, pushing his insecurity back into the closet where he hides it so that he doesn’t bring down everybody’s day. “I appreciate you protecting my honor, or whatever.”

“You better,” he pats Jeremy on the back. “I’m ready to fight everybody for you. And I’ll win. I’ve never gotten into a fistfight before, but I’m pretty sure you can’t beat a dragon at a fight, yeah?”

“Totally,” Jeremy nods. Because there’s also that.

Michael is a dragon. 

It’s just one of those facts Jeremy found infinitely cool at first until it slowly melted into the rest of what made Michael who he is. Michael likes video games, Michael can whistle really well, Michael is handsome, and Michael has dragon blood in him.

It’s not obvious, but it never really is with hybrids. There’s usually always a shift involved; a transformation between human to whatever other thing it was you were, or something. Jeremy maybe zoned out at that biology lesson. What usually ended up carrying over were behaviors or subtle quirks, like how vampires tended to need lots of sunscreen and usually went into accounting, or how Rich can easily be distracted with a laser pointer.

Michael, for instance, gets cold very, very easily and is never seen without his hoodie. Sometimes Jeremy catches Michael lounging by a window, sunlight on his face, looking blissed out and relaxed. Michael is a really good swimmer and loves the beach. Michael hates loud, banging noises like gongs or drums or thunder, but loves the sound wind chimes make. A lot of these were easily explained by the fact that dragons were basically magic lizards, but the other stuff was a bit more puzzling.

(As a six year old who only really knew what dragons were in relation to the big ones that breathed fire and kidnapped princesses in cartoons, Jeremy was pretty confused that Michael didn’t do classic dragon stuff like hoarding or, y’know, breathing fire. When he finally brings up his concerns, Michael explains everything one night when Jeremy sleeps over.

Michael lugs a big, old looking book onto his bed before switching off the lights in his bedroom, plunging them both into the darkness of the night.

“Flashlight,” Michael holds his hand out, and Jeremy dutifully gave it to him, relieved when he clicked it open. “Thanks.”

“I don’t like scary stories,” Jeremy tells him. The book Michael places between them is worn at the spine, no doubt from being cracked open for years and years. The edges of the pages he could see were tattered and thin. It looked like a book from scary stories, and Jeremy really wanted to sleep tonight.

“It’s not a scary story, don’t worry,” Michael assures him. “I just wanted the lights off ‘cuz it’s dramatic.”

“Nerd,” he says as Michael opens the book. Jeremy can’t read the title page since it’s in Tagalog, so Michael flips through the pages. He sees glimpses of various creatures, hand drawn and like nothing he’s ever seen before. 

“Here we are!” Michael spreads the book open, turning it so that it faces Jeremy. 

Jeremy squints, looking at the book. “Bakunawa,” he reads out, looking at Michael who has a wide grin on his face. “What’s that?”

“That’s what I am,” Michael says proudly. “I’m not your usual classic dragon with the fire and treasure. I’m cooler! I’m a Filipino dragon. I’m this,” he points to the illustration under the title. It shows a snake-like figure curled up, asleep. “Or, well, kinda. They’re like my great great great blah blah blah ancestor, or something.”

“Ohhhhh,” Jeremy nods, understanding. 

“Yeah, so like the Bakunawa, that’s what they’re called,” Michael shines the light on the next page; another illustration. Here, it showed the Bakunawa spread out, long and majestic. “They chilled out in the sea, mostly, but one day, things got really rad. Are you ready?”

“Sure,” Jeremy laughs, spurred on by Michael’s excitement.

“The Bakunawa,” Michael tells him, face illuminated by the flashlight he held under his face. “Is a fearsome creature—”

“You don’t look too fearsome to me,” Jeremy says. Michael, at best, can look frustrated. 

Michael huffs, frustrated. “Let me finish the story!”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he laughs. “Go on.”

“The Bakunawa is a mighty sea dragon,” Michael continues. He points to the picture in the book of a serpent with wings flying out of the water. “When it came out of the water, people would play loud music to scare it away, or soothing, slow songs to put it to sleep. One day the Bakunawa fell in love with the beauty of the moon, so they flew up into the sky—” he turns the page. There, the picture shows the serpent with its jaw wide open, teeth glinting around a circle of light. “—and they swallowed it whole.”

“Please don’t eat the moon,” Jeremy whispers. “We need that.”

“I won’t, duh,” Michael rolls his eyes. “I’m not _actually_ them. I’ve just got some of their magic in me, get it? That’s why I’m good at swimming.”

“Okay,” he traces his fingers along the picture, stopping at the serpent’s wings. “As long as you don’t eat the moon, that’s pretty cool, I guess. Can you fly?”

“Not yet, but I might in the future,” Michael grins. “Nanay says that when I get older, I’ll get wings one day when I manifest,” he says, enunciating each syllable carefully. 

“What? That’s the coolest!” Jeremy flaps his hands because it _is_ the coolest because his best friend is a _dragon_. His best friend is a dragon, and he’s just Jeremy. Just Jeremy who can’t do anything special at all, really. The giddiness inside of him trickles into something sour. A nervous twinge. 

“Hey, what’s wrong,” Michael pokes him, frowning in concern. “You look sad, all of a sudden.”

“It’s nothing,” he brings his knees up to hug, averting his eyes away from Michael’s flashlight lit face, away from the book between them. Jeremy’s gaze looks out Michael’s bedroom window. There, the moon shines faintly behind a thin haze of clouds. Jeremy finds his words and says quietly, “When you get your wings, don’t, uh. Don’t fly away, okay? I mean, you can do whatever you want, but I’d be really bummed out if you flew away and never came back and—”

“Hey,” Michael says gently, putting a stop to Jeremy’s quickening words. He looks at Jeremy. “I won’t. Promise.”

Jeremy, for some reason, feels like crying, but that’d be lame. He isn’t a _baby_. So he just nods, stays silent for a while, then says, “Not even to eat the moon?”

“Why are you so caught up on that!” Michael laughs, goofy and weird. It’s enough to help Jeremy relax, smiling himself as he lets go of his knees to stretch out. 

“I dunno, it just seems kinda like an important thing this guy does,” Jeremy tells Michael over his laughter, pointing at the book.

“I promise I won’t fly away and eat the moon, dumbo,” Michael says. “It probably tastes bad anyway. It’s a rock.”

“You licked a rock just last week.”

“That’s ‘cuz you dared me to.”

“No, I didn’t! I said ‘Michael, don’t lick that rock,’ then you said ‘You can’t tell me what to do’, then you did it!”

“La la la,” Michael covers his ears. “You dared me to. You daaaaared me to.”

Then the night devolves in Jeremy chasing Michael around his room while moonlight filtered in through the window until Michael’s mom comes in and tells them to go to sleep.)

So Michael is a dragon, but nothing ever really happens. For the twelve years they’ve been best friends, the weirdest thing Michael does is regularly freak Jeremy out by staying under the water way too long than humanly possible whenever they swim. 

It’s pretty easy to forget all about it. Rich, Christine, and Jenna constantly have little bits and pieces that remind Jeremy that they’re supernatural, like Rich’s monthly “dont bother me nerds im gonna awoooooo” messages, or Christine giving Michael a patch with a rune on it, or Jenna telling them gossip from _1932_. 

Michael is a dragon, but the more important fact was usually that Michael forgot his homework or that Michael wants him to come over and get high. The whole manifesting thing Jeremy was so scared of as a child was never revisited, and Jeremy just figured that maybe Michael missed out on a dominant dragon gene, or something.

He probably should’ve anticipated things to catch up eventually.

-

It starts on Thursday when Jeremy sees Michael trudging through the hallways looking like he’s been dragged through a hedge, sans the twigs and leaves. His hair is a mess and his steps lack the usual energetic skip they usually have.

“Dude,” he says. Michael jolts, as if he didn’t hear Jeremy coming. “You don’t look too hot.”

“I am so offended,” Michael smiles weakly. “I am _always_ hot.”

“Yeah, okay, I know,” Jeremy rolls his eyes. Michael _is_ always hot, but that’s just Jeremy’s feelings induced bias talking. “I meant you look like you’re about to pass out. Are you sick?”

“Actually, I think I am,” he leans against a locker. “Mind walking with me to the clinic, man? I feel like I got dunked in a vat of liquid ‘go fuck yourself.’” Michael never admits when he’s feeling off. Last time he got the flu, Jeremy had to physically drag him to the clinic, so him actually asking is drilling the severity of the situation in Jeremy’s head.

“Shit, of course,” Jeremy says, taking Michael’s arm. Michael leans against him immediately, exhausted, sighing against him. “C’mon, let’s go.”

“You are the best person,” Michael tells him as Jeremy navigates the hall.

He deposits Michael at the clinic without much trouble, but he goes through the rest of his classes with worry buzzing in his head. The next day, Michael doesn’t come into class at all. Jeremy is relieved that he’s taking a day to rest, but the notable absence at lunch is still enough to make him queasy. 

His phone starts buzzing in his pocket later that day right as he gets out of play rehearsal. Waving goodbye to Christine, Jeremy swipes his phone open to see Michael’s contact picture—a hilarious shot of Michael taken just at the second he tipped his chair back too far, eyes filled with unknown terror—and the words _marshMELLow is calling…_ flashing on screen.

“Hey, Michael,” he answers. “How are you doing?”

“ _Jeremyyyyyyy_. Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy,” Michael slurs repeatedly, Jeremy’s name stumbling through his hoarse voice. “Jeremy, I feel. Blurry. Jeremy, I feel like how blurry looks like. Fuckin’ over compressed jpeg feel. Jeremy. Jeremy, you gotta—you gotta come over. Jer, buddy, you gotta—”

“Whoa, dude, you sound either drunk or high or really sick or all three,” Jeremy interrupts before Michael can say his name a hundred more times. “Please tell me it’s not all three.”

“I am not any of those things,” Michael tells him unconvincingly. “But you gotta come over, Jeremy. I miss your face.” 

“Uh,” Jeremy can feel his face flushing. “Yeah, okay, I can come over.”

“Yes!” Michael cheers triumphantly. “That’s the greatest. You’re the greatest, Jer. Jeremy. You have such a great name y’know? Jeremy. Jeremy. Je—”

Michael is cut off but a few rustling sounds, then by a familiar voice saying, “Mikey, anak, give me the phone. _Pahinga ka na_.”

“Nanaaayyy,” Jeremy hears Michael whine softly, but his voice isn’t the one that speaks on the line next.

“Jeremy, hello?” Mrs. Mell says. 

“Hi, Tita,” he says. “Uh, is Michael okay? He sounds kind of out of it.”

“He’s fine,” she sighs fondly. “He’s just finally manifesting. All that magic is taking a bit of a toll on him.”

“Manifesting?” Jeremy repeats dumbly. “Like. Dragon manifesting?”

“Mhhhmm,” she hums. “You have other supernatural friends, yes? Mikey’s feeling a bit under the weather because changing takes up magic and energy. It’s tiring.”

“Oh yeah,” Jeremy remembers when Christine literally conked out into an impromptu nap the day she blew the power out. “I’m going to come over, if that’s okay? Michael asked me to.”

“Of course it’s okay, but, well,” Mrs. Mell says, sounding unsure. “You’re welcome to come over, but I’d advise you not to unless you’re ready to stay for the entire weekend. Dragons tend to get a bit, ah, clingy at this time. Mikey wouldn’t take too well to you appearing and then leaving.”

“That’s not a problem. I’ll just drop by my house to fetch some clothes, then I’ll be right over,” Jeremy tells her. Dragon magic or not, Jeremy kind of just wants to hang out with his best friend, even if said best friend is probably bundled up in a blanket. 

“Alright, I’m sure he’d love to hear that,” Mrs. Mell tells him. “Here, I’ll give you back to him. See you later, Jeremy.”

“See you,” he says. Over the phone, Jeremy hears more rustling before a long, ecstatic gasp.

“You’re staying for the weekend!” Michael says. “That’s awesome! You’re so awesome, Jeremy.”

“Thanks, man,” Jeremy laughs at Michael’s enthusiasm. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go—”

“What, why?” Michael whines. His mom wasn’t kidding about the clingy thing, huh.

“So I can go to my house then go to yours,” Jeremy explains.

“Oh, okay. That’s smart. You’re really smart, Jer.”

“Sure,” Jeremy says, wondering just what it is he’s getting himself into. “Bye, dude.”

“Bye! I love you!” Then Michael hangs up.

Wait, _what?_

-

After Jeremy deals with the sudden heat in his face, the pounding in his chest, he chalks it up to Michael being out of it from magical exhaustion. He makes a little detour to 7/11 to buy snacks before going home to grab some stuff. He heads over to Michael’s place where Mrs. Mell happily greets him and ushers him off upstairs to Michael’s room.

Jeremy’s barely halfway through saying “Hey—” when he’s tackle hugged against the door by Michael himself.

“Jeremy! You’re here!” Michael says, snuggling into Jeremy’s shoulder while Jeremy tries not to let out a high pitched screech. 

“I’m here,” Jeremy, for the lack of anything else to do, pats Michael’s messy, soft hair with the hand not holding a plastic bag. He raises it for for Michael to see, “I bought snacks.”

Michael pulls away to look at Jeremy. His bangs are in his face and he’s missing his glasses and for all that he looks wholly like somebody who’s been sleeping the whole day, the fucker still has the audacity to look cute. Solemnly, Michael says, “You are the best person on this entire planet.” 

Then he slumps against Jeremy, his head hung over Jeremy’s shoulder. 

“Oh my god, Michael.” Jeremy drops the snacks and his backpack, trying to stay standing against all of Michael’s weight on him. “I’m a noodle, oh god, what are you doing?”

“I shouldn’t have stood up,” Michael says. “I’m mega exhausted, man.”

“Alright, back to bed you go then,” Jeremy walks a very placid Michael backwards onto his bed where the pillows have been arranged in a vague, nest-like formation. Michael pulls a blanket over himself, curling up into it adorably, only his head poking out of the cocoon he’s constructed. “How are you feeling?”

“Miserable,” Michael grumbles. “Miserable and moody and cold and hot and exhausted and I wanna go swimming and my back keeps alternating between weird tingling and bad aches. Why’s it doing that, Jer? It’s really weird, why is it doing that?”

“Uh, well, I don’t really know anything about all this,” Jeremy sits by Michael’s side. “But maybe it’s the whole wings thing?”

“It _suuuuucks_ ,” Michael whines, nudging his head against Jeremy’s hand. Really, he has no choice but to thread his fingers through Michael’s (soft, very soft) hair. Michael hums contentedly. “Sucks less now that you’re here, though.”

“Awwww,” Jeremy can’t help but croon, snickering at Michael’s tiny grimace. “Would you even say that I’m your fav-wit person?”

“Come on, shut it,” Michael laughs, swatting at Jeremy’s hand. It’s the first time Michael sounds like he normally does; happy and kidding around. “I’m in a delicate state, fight me.”

“You’re a dragon, dude, I’d have no chance,” Jeremy reminds him. “But I’m sure I can beat your ass at Mario Kart.”

“Oh, yeah right,” Michael sits up, because as tired as he is he’ll never say no to video games. 

Jeremy breaks out the snacks, all dumb sugary shit Mrs. Mell probably wouldn’t have let him bring up had she'd known, and they spend the next hour or two playing video games with the volume on low after Jeremy noticed that Michael flinched with every loud sound. Mrs. Mell calls them down later for dinner before she leaves for her shift at the hospital, but Michael refuses to exit his blanket and thus walks out of his room swathed in it like a desert wanderer.

(“How do I look?” Michael says, a portion of the blanket over his head like a hood.

“Like Mother Teresa,” Jeremy tells him. “Come on, we’ve gotta eat non-snack food.”)

Jeremy only barely manages to get Michael back to his room, because by the time they’re done with dinner, his head is nodding off dangerously, his eyes fluttering closed every other second. Michael assures Jeremy valiantly while he bumps into a wall because his eyes were closed that he is _definitely not sleepy, come on, dude, it’s like, eight, who gets sleepy at eight?_

When they get back to Michael’s room, Michael falls face first into his bed and starts snoring softly. Jeremy can’t help but laugh.

Jeremy tidies up the snack wrappers they littered around before going out to fetch the extra mattress they have, pulling it to the side of Michael’s bed. He brushes his teeth in Michael’s bathroom, and when he gets out, Michael is awake, staring up at his ceiling with bleary, unseeing eyes.

“Yo,” Jeremy hops onto the mattress he set up on the floor. “You okay?”

“I need—” Michael says, but his voice trails off. 

“What do you need, dude?” he asks worriedly. Michael keeps blinking at the ceiling.

“Water.”

“Alright, just give me a sec—” Jeremy stands to get a glass from the kitchen, but he’s stopped when Michael grabs his wrist with inhuman speed.

“No, no, no,” Michael says quickly. “No, I’m not thirsty. Please don’t leave.”

“Okay, don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” Jeremy assures him softly. Michael’s gaze is unfocused, like he’s looking far, far away. There’s also something different about his eyes. His usual brown is now tinted with just the smallest bit of yellow; his pupils a slightly different shape. “I’m right here.”

“I don’t need water. I need _the_ water,” he lets go of Jeremy’s wrist, not breaking eye contact.

“Michael, I don’t—”

“The sea,” he says. “I need the sea.”

“Oh,” Jeremy says. He makes a note to look for that big book of creatures tomorrow, just to see what else Michael might go through. “I’m sorry, but you have to stay here and rest.”

“But I need it, you don’t understand,” Michael curls up into his blanket, and his voice is so small and frail that it’s breaking Jeremy’s heart. At this moment, Jeremy desperately wishes he could steal every ocean to pack it into a bottle and give to Michael. “I’m sorry, this is dumb, and—”

“It’s not,” Jeremy says, reaching for Michael’s hand slowly. Michael hums as Jeremy rubs his thumb over his knuckles. “You’re a sea dragon, dude. It’s not stupid. I might not understand but if you wanna talk about, like, how it feels, I’ll listen.”

“You’re so nice to me,” he moves his hand, intertwining their fingers. Jeremy’s heart is a loud drumbeat in his ears, but thankfully Michael can’t hear it. “You’re so, so nice.”

“Anything for you, man,” Jeremy says quietly.

Thankfully, Michael doesn’t call him out for being mushy. His eyes just go still again, searching, searching, searching. “It’s like an itch, Jeremy. No—No, not an itch. It’s a. It’s a pull.” Michael says. “It’s not a physical pull, but I can feel it. I know I can live without it, but I can feel it and it feels like I need it.”

“I don’t have the sea with me, but I’m here,” Jeremy says, well aware that he’s not by any means a good replacement, but Michael needs something and Jeremy will try his hardest to help. 

“You’re here,” Michael reaches his hand out to touch Jeremy’s face, his palm trailing warmth where it brushes against Jeremy’s cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I am too,” he tells him, and weird dragon magic aside, Jeremy means it.

Michael smiles, and it’s a smile marred by exhaustion and whatever it is he’s feeling that he can only explain to Jeremy through words. It’s stunning all the same, and Jeremy feels his breath catch in his throat.

Then Michael’s eyes slip closed, asleep once again.

If this is day one, Jeremy is honestly wondering how he’s going to survive the rest of the weekend.

-

Jeremy, much to Michael’s eternal dismay, is a well functioning morning person with a well functioning biological time clock. This means he’s up well before Michael is to shower and make some sort of breakfast before looking through Michael’s room for that tome they used to flip through when they were kids.

He finds it by a pile next to Michael’s desk, underneath a hanger and a math textbook he’s sure Michael’s never opened. Jeremy carefully pulls it out, sets it on the desk, and flips through the _manananggal_ and the _aswang_ and the _diwata_ to find what he’s looking for. The Bakunawa.

Jeremy quickly scans over the text. The book is written in Tagalog, but after many instances of tiny Jeremy complaining over how he couldn’t understand it, Michael had helpfully stuck on various post its with summarized bullet points in English. After looking through the entire section, he has a good gist of what Michael might go through next; back pains will increase to make way for the wings, sea longing will be at its height in the night, possibility of fever is high since the body has to adjust and realize that magic is not a virus, loud, banging noises will cause stress while soothing music can help put a Bakunawa hybrid to sleep. A sudden, extreme fixation on the moon is to be expected.

“Mmmm, whuh,” Michael groans from his bed, and Jeremy quietly shuts the book closed. “What time is it?” 

“Morning o’clock,” Jeremy answers. “Come on, get up. I made pancakes.”

“Blob shaped batter friends, my favorite,” Michael says happily, rubbing at his eyes. “Gimme, like, a few minutes to wake up.”

A few minutes doesn’t happen because Michael falls asleep again. Jeremy wakes him up by hitting his face with a pillow, which works pretty well since Michael chases him downstairs with his own pillow for revenge.

They eat breakfast then spend the rest of the morning lounging on the couch, flipping through channels, stopping at that show with the dude who talks about aliens building the Nazca Lines. Michael tries to order takeout, but he gets as far as saying “Yeah, can I get a McFuckin’ uh,” before Jeremy is wrenching the phone out of his hand to tell the guy on the line something actually intelligible. Michael spends a ridiculously long time in the shower and Jeremy is almost sure he’s just sitting under the spray, thinking of the sea, so he leaves him be. When he gets out, (soft, soft hair damp and in his face), Jeremy puts on a movie with minimal explosions, Fantastic Mr. Fox it is, and they watch it together. Or, well, Jeremy watches it while glancing at Michael from the corner of his eyes, taking note of how Michael laughs or smiles or suddenly turns his head to the nearest window as if somebody is calling his name. How he looks, gaze so far away, searching.

Not once does Michael complain about anything, but Jeremy can see how he shifts his weight, how he’s keeping pressure off of his back. Michael says nothing about the moon.

Once the sky starts to get dark, they’ve watched their way through two more movies and a couple episodes of Star Trek. As Captain Kirk talks on screen, Michael slowly starts to fidget more, and more. Hand wringing, leg bouncing, and lip biting. 

“The sea?” Jeremy asks two episodes later when Michael has resorted to running his hands through his hair.

“Yeah,” Michael pulls his blanket tighter around himself. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Jeremy tells him. “Would another shower help?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “The water’s all wrong. I’m tired, anyway.”

They trudge their way back up to Michael’s room, Michael talking on and on about how cool it would’ve been if supernaturals were on board the Enterprise. Michael, and there’s really no other way to put this, slithers back into bed, lying on his front before stretching out his limbs and going still.

Jeremy, not yet sleepy, brings out his laptop and decides to get some work done, thinking that Michael had fallen asleep. He silently clacks away at his keyboard for maybe twenty minutes when Michael speaks up.

“Hey,” Michael says.

“Yo,” Jeremy turns to him. The yellow in Michael’s eyes is brighter now; almost golden. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I didn’t even fall asleep.” He sighs. “Are you ever tired but also filled with energy at the same time? That’s what’s going on right now. Ugh.”

Jeremy frowns before rummaging through his bag for his earphones, looking through the sheets for where he left his phone.

“What’re you doing?” Michael props himself up on his elbows.

“Trying to help,” Jeremy scrolls through the music on his phone to [an album Michael had recommended him](https://open.spotify.com/album/5cPHT4yMCfETLRYAoBFcOZ). It’s relaxing orchestral stuff, not really Jeremy’s type of music but he kept it on his phone either way. He plugs in his earphones and hands them to Michael, “Here, but only wear one.”

“Why?” Michael asks, popping one earphone in anyway. On his laptop, Jeremy pulls open a new tab on Youtube, searches for what he needs to find, and hits play.

“Oh,” Michael says. His phone plays Michael music while his laptop plays the video [4 Hours Ocean Waves Sea Waves](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dsDTJ__jioo), a painfully redundant title, but the sounds are nice. Jeremy looks at Michael anxiously, holding his breath wave after wave.

“I know it isn’t the sea, but I thought it might help you fall asleep—”

“Jeremy,” Michael interrupts him. His voice is soft and tired. His eyes are blinking closed wearily. His smile is barely there, but breathtaking all the same. “This is really nice.”

“Glad you like it, dude,” Jeremy smiles. “Go to sleep, Michael.”

“Mmmm,” he hums, shutting his eyes for good. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Then there’s silence for awhile save for the sounds of the sea. Waves receding.

“Love you,” Michael says.

Waves crashing back in.

-

Against all odds, Jeremy does manage to fall asleep despite Michael’s sleep drawled words repeating over and over in his head. When the video finally ends, he shuts down his laptop and goes to sleep feeling a confusing mix of warm and anxious and content all at once.

He’s woken up in the middle of the night though by a cold breeze. Blearily, Jeremy opens his eyes, blinking awake, and sees Michael’s bedroom window open, the night air blowing into room.

“How’d—” he says, but trails off when he sits up and sees Michael’s bed devoid of any Michael in it. Fear abruptly rises in his throat, and he's up in an instant.

“Michael?” Jeremy stands and checks the bathroom first, just in case. It’s empty of course, so Jeremy follows his gut and pokes his head out the window and calls out, “Michael!”

“It’s cloudy,” Jeremy hears Michael’s voice at the side. To his horror, Michael sits at the edge of the roof, wearing only pajama pants and no shirt, eyes pointed to the sky. “It’s cloudy.”

“Michael, oh my god, it’s freezing,” Jeremy says. “Come back inside.”

“I can’t see it,” Michael says. Jeremy can’t see his face, what with how he’s looking up, but his voice wavers. He sounds like he’s going to cry. “I can’t see the moon.”

“Fuck, fuck, okay. Let’s do this. Fuck.” Jeremy takes a deep breath and crawls out the window onto the roof. He tries his best not to think about the both of them falling to their doom and ending up with broken necks. “Michael,” he calls out again, inching closer and closer. “Michael, this is dangerous, you have to come back inside.”

“I need to see the moon,” Michael says, raising his hand up. “I need the sea, I need the moon, I need—”

“Michael, look at me, please,” Jeremy takes hold of his wrist, and finally Michael slowly turns to him. His eyes are gold now, pupils slitted, gaze confused and lost. “Michael, please come back inside.”

Michael blinks for a moment. Then for another. Then, as if a grand realization dawns on him, his blank face splits into a smile.

“There you are,” Michael says, moving his hand to touch Jeremy’s face again. Now is not the time to freeze up, Jeremy. _Focus_. “I was looking for you.”

“Come on,” he pulls at Michael gently, and to his utter relief, Michael follows. “Let’s go back inside.”

“I’m so glad I found you,” Michael says as they slowly crawl across the roof, and then he starts to babble nonsense that Jeremy can understand, but not really _understand_. “You’re here. You’re here, and I didn’t even have to fly. You’re so beautiful. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Alright, there we go,” Jeremy places Michael back on his bed, closing the window shut. “That’s better. Less almost dying is better.”

“Have your eyes always been this blue?” Michael says, suddenly next to Jeremy. He resists the urge to squawk and fall backwards, since that wouldn’t really be useful. 

“They’re the usual blue they always are, I guess,” he answers. 

Then Michael is hugging him as if Jeremy’s a lifeline. “I can’t believe you’re both of them,” he says, as if that makes any sense. “I’m so lucky. Most of us have to leave one and go to the other, but you’re _both_.”

“Ahhh,” Jeremy says, trying to steer Michael back into his bed. “You should sleep now. You have to be on your bed to sleep, dude.”

“But I finally found you,” Michael says, his words tickling Jeremy’s neck. Focus, Jeremy. “Don’t wanna let you go.”

“Okay, okay, in bed you go,” Jeremy finally gets Michael back on his bed, pulling Michael’s arms away from him and stepping back. Michael looks at him like Jeremy just told him they weren’t friends anymore. Confused and lost and so goddamn sad.

“What did I do wrong?” Michael asks, and Jeremy scrambles closer to him.

“Nothing, nothing, oh god,” he assures Michael. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Can I be close to you, then?” Michael tilts his head. Jeremy had never seen Michael exhibit any dragon like traits, but tonight, right now, Jeremy understands. It might just be his sleep addled brain, but he swears he sees a faint outline of wings behind Michael, if only for a second. “Please?”

“I—Well,” he tries to reason, but really, that’ll get them nowhere. Defeated, Jeremy sits next to Michael on his bed. “Okay. Okay, sure. Just like when we were kids, yeah?”

“I can’t believe you’re both of them,” Michael says when they lie down. Already, whatever adrenaline that had possessed him to climb out onto the roof seems to be slipping away. His words start to slur with the promise of sleep. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You’re out of it,” Jeremy laughs quietly. He shuts his eyes and wills his heart to calm down. This is all just weird dragon magic. He repeats this to himself like a mantra, like counting sheep. “Goodnight, Michael.”

“Goodnight,” Michael says. “ _Aking buwan_.”

“What?” Jeremy cracks an eye open. “What did you say?”

“ _Aking buwan, aking dagat,_ ” Michael repeats, then his eyes shut closed. His breathing goes calm.

Jeremy is too tired and too overwhelmed by everything that had just happened to go grab his phone and translate whatever it is Michael just said. As he lets sleep take him, wave after wave, he makes a note to search it tomorrow. 

-

Jeremy wakes up with Michael’s arms around his waist and his wings over the rest of him like a large, leathery blanket.

Michael’s wings.

Michael’s _wings_.

“Michael!” Jeremy screeches, wrenching himself out of Michael’s grasp. “Michael, holy shit, holy fuck, wake up!”

“Don’t wanna,” Michael turns, his wing, (his wing!) smacking Jeremy right in the face. “Five more minutes.”

“Fuck that, Michael,” Jeremy grabs a pillow and hits it over Michael’s head. Michael’s wings, brown and red scales, spread up to shield him, so Jeremy starts hitting those instead. “Michael, wake the fuck up, you have wings.”

“I have what now,” Michael scrubs a hand over his face, blinking awake slowly to look at Jeremy. Then to look at the wings he’s got spread out around him. “Uh.”

“Holy shit,” Jeremy says. He watches Michael sit up slowly, turning to look at his back, then spreading out his arms, his now claw tipped fingers, his wings following suit, knocking over a can filled with pens. Michael says nothing. He just stares and stares. “Dude, are you okay.”

“I mean, yeah, sure,” Michael says, dazed. “I’m pretty okay for somebody who’s got a new pair of limbs.”

“How are you feeling?” 

“Oddly, fresh as fuck,” Michael blinks. “I mean, I’m still exhausted but it’s slowly hitting me that this is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me and I want to run a mile or jump into a river, oh god, wings. _Jeremy_ , I have _wings_.”

“You have wings!” Jeremy laughs, giddy and happy because this is pretty fucking cool. 

“I have wings!” Michael stands, only to fall face first into the floor.

-

It turns out the added weight of an entirely new set of limbs makes simple things like walking and standing a little bit hard to do, at first. Jeremy spends a good ten minutes laughing at Michael falling on his ass maybe eighteen times before Michael’s wing suspiciously ‘accidentally’ hits Jeremy in the face. From there, Jeremy, out of the goodness of his own heart, helps Michael out.

The morning is spent knocking into furniture and walls and laughing like a bunch of idiots. But once Jeremy goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water, Michael’s laughter dies out.

“Sea?” Jeremy hazards, taking a drink. 

“Yeah,” Michael says from his perch on the couch. He’s obviously trying to keep it cool, but his wings are pretty good indicators of mood, if how they droop sadly is anything to go by. “I’d settle for a puddle, at this point. I guess I’ll just shower for the nth time.”

“Wait,” Jeremy pauses, summer memories coming back to him. “Do you guys still have that inflatable kiddie pool?”

“Probabl—Jeremy,” Michael says. “You are a genius.”

“Fuck yeah, I am. Stay there, I’ll take care of everything,” Jeremy says before bolting off to the storage room.

He hears Michael say “Wait, I can help!” followed by the telltale sound of him crashing into something. Yeah, Jeremy can handle this. Michael just went through the various pains of growing wings and being in love with the moon, or something, so really, the least he can do is set up a pool.

When he’s done, he goes back to the living room where Michael looks miserable on the couch. Michael pointedly doesn’t look at him, but his wings perk up much like how a dog’s ears do when it sees something cool.

“Goddamn, fuckin’ traitor wings,” Michael grumbles, crossing his arms.

“Come on,” Jeremy says, offering Michael his hand.

“You left me to _die_.”

“I left you on your couch,” Jeremy rolls his eyes. “Come on, Michael. Water. Water you can go in.”

“Ffffuck, god, yes, okay,” Michael takes Jeremy’s hand in a second, his resolve crumbling as he stands, balancing his weight both on his own legs and onto Jeremy. “Take me to the water, oh god.”

Jeremy leads Michael carefully away breakable furniture out to his backyard where a tiny, inflatable pool sits, filled with water. Next to him, Michael is practically vibrating with excitement.

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy, oh my god,” Michael squeezes Jeremy’s arm. “I don’t deserve you, you’re too good for me, you’re too good for everybody, you’re—”

“Get in the damn pool, dude,” Jeremy laughs, and it’s all the permission Michael needs to step into the kiddie pool, not a care at all for his pants, and easing himself in.

“I’m—” Michael starts. He’s lying on his front, wings stretching out languidly on the water, head propped onto the inflatable barrier. “I’m so—Jeremy. I can die like this. This is the best thing I’ve ever felt in my _life_.”

“It’s just a kiddie pool,” Jeremy sits by the pool. The morning sun streams down on them. “It’s no big deal.”

“Hey,” Michael pokes Jeremy in the cheek, urging Jeremy to look at Michael. “It is to me. All of this is a really, really big deal to me. Like, you coming over and dealing with my clingy, moody ass? I don’t know how you did it. Hanging out with me even though I was about as fun as a piece of chewed gum? You are a saint. I can’t even remember what the hell happened last night, but I remember you making sure I didn’t jump off the roof trying to fly into the sky.”

“Michael, you’re my best friend,” Jeremy says. He’s happy, and he knows he’s happy, so why is there something in his chest that aches? “I’d do anything for you.”

“Thank you,” Michael says. “Thank you so much.”

“No problem, man,” he smiles, willing the ache away. He can’t have time for it. Not when Michael is here.

Not when Michael extends his wing over Jeremy’s head, dripping water all over him.

“Dude, what the hell!”

“You looked hot from the sun! I’m being an umbrella.”

“Umbrellas are supposed to do the opposite of getting people wet, jerk,” he says, to which Michael responds by splashing his wing back into the pool, spraying more water onto Jeremy.

That’s how Mrs. Mell finds them later, scuffling out in the backyard like a bunch of kids. She coos over Michael’s wings and his eyes and his claws, proud as any mom could be, and cooks them lunch. Before he can realize it, it’s getting late and Jeremy had promised his dad he’d be home by Sunday.

By then, Michael is swathed in yet another blanket, snoozing on the couch, so Jeremy bids Mrs. Mell goodbye and treks home.

That night, when Jeremy sleeps, he dreams of the moon and the sea and an awed voice telling him _I can’t believe you’re both_.

-

Michael comes back to school the next day looking happy and energized and very much human looking. His eyes are back to brown, his fingers are back to nails, and his wings, very obviously, aren’t poking out of his red hoodie or perhaps hidden underneath.

“Hey, Jeremy,” Michael slings his arm around Jeremy’s shoulders. “Today is a good day. It’s a great day.”

“I see you’re feeling better,” Jeremy smiles, happy to walk in Michael’s hold. “Where’d, uh. Where’d your wings go?”

“Away,” Michael waves his hand. “I don’t really get it either, but they’ll come and go until I learn to control the shift completely. I’m just glad I can actually have thoughts now unrelated to the sea or the moon. See, right now I just had a thought about yogurt. Oh, wow, we should get yogurt later. We can bring Chloe and Brooke too, since that’s their thing.”

“Is there an opposite of a mood drop? Like a mood high? You seem to have it, dude.”

“I dunno, Jer, but I’m just feeling really, really great,” Michael looks at him. “I owe a lot of it to you.”

“I didn’t rea—”

“Let me appreciate you, you bastard,” Michael interrupts him. “You’re human but the next time you get sick? I’m going to take such good fucking care of you, man. Least I could do. In fact, I’m buying your yogurt later.”

“Okay, okay, fine, you’re welcome,” he caves. It doesn’t feel like too much of a defeat, what with how Michael’s smiling at him.

(At the back of his mind, Jeremy’s mind trails across the memory of Michael looking upon him on the roof while the cold air nipped at their skin. _There you are_.)

“Jeremy, hey,” Michael snaps in front of him. “You zoned out for a bit there.”

“Sorry,” Jeremy blinks. “Slept late last night.” 

“Can’t relate, but hope you get through the day, man,” Michael pats him on the back. (Jeremy’s mind is being really unhelpful, reminding him of when that hand was on his face, gentle and soft.) “See you later!”

“See you,” Jeremy waves goodbye, his head a churning mess. 

He’ll probably have to confront this soon, preferably before the next time Michael’s dragon instincts decide to kill Jeremy through maybe-accidental-but-hey-what-if-it’s-completely-sincere affection. Jeremy figures that he kind of wants answers to everything Michael did, but he won’t bring it up today, since Michael will probably be busy regaling everything to the rest of their friends. He might not do it tomorrow, and Jeremy knows he’s stalling since his brain can’t think up of any excuse.

But he’ll do it. He swears. Jeremy will bring it up and get answers and maybe even say a little something himself. Just not now. 

Now, he goes to class, losing focus just a few minutes in. Jeremy looks out the window and daydreams of a glinting seascape, a bright moon, and a set of wings.

**Author's Note:**

> translation of stuffs:  
> Nanay = mom  
> anak = my child, but at the same formality level as saying son, tho without the pesky gendering  
> Tita = aunt, but also an honorific for a female parent that is not your own, like, for example the mom of your friend. mikey taught jerm to say this bc...mrs.mell is wayyy too formal  
> “Pahinga ka na” = “Rest now”  
> manananggal, aswang, diwata = various mythological creatures and beings from filipino mythologies  
> “Aking buwan, aking dagat” = “My moon, my sea”
> 
> more things  
> -just to absolve myself of inaccuracies: michael's mom is a nurse and i know nothing about nurse shifts other from what i observed from mrs. mccall in teen wolf. mrs. mell loves her son SO MUCH but shes busy bc this whole fic hinges on jerm taking care of mikey  
> -if you didnt click through to the album, it’s Ma Fleur by The Cinematic Orchestra. very relaxing. the 4 hours sea sound thing is also a real vid. also v relaxing.  
> -EDIT 6/28/17: sinisterspooks blessed us with blessed art of [the roof scene](http://sinisterspooks.tumblr.com/post/162348114223/there-you-are-ive-been-looking-for-you) and [ michael in the kiddie pool](http://sinisterspooks.tumblr.com/post/162348814233/bird-bath-but-for-dragons). my anxiety has been cured. actually, just go thru [their tag](http://sinisterspooks.tumblr.com/tagged/bakunawa-boy). it's all Fantastic  
> -EDIT 6/30/17: yes, i will probably write more for this AU, but im not sure when. in the meantime, u can browse my [bakunawa AU tag on my tumblr where ppl and i discuss hcs for this weird AU.](http://actualbird.tumblr.com/tagged/bakunawa-boy)  
> -EDIT 7/10/2017: it's official, i love everybody in this bar. if you want more bakunawa fic please read [hare in the moon](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11356719) by emilywolf, [Sleepsong](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11415591) by hurricanesunny, and [Providence](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11455194) by hurricanesunny. 
> 
> im [actualbird](http://actualbird.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. i hope you had fun!!


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